The Ring
by OmbreDesDieux
Summary: It wasn't her fault. They came for her out of the shadows of the alleyway and there wasn't much she could do. In despair, she fled to the only oasis available to her; the safe haven of family. But she lost something important on the way, a symbol of her own happiness.


It was dark when she reached the abandoned looking warehouse on the corner of Eastman and Laird. With great difficulty, she stumbled to the keypad cleverly hidden near the door, leaving a trail of blood drops behind her. She punched in a complex 8 digit code and said her name into the mic. A rough, aged voice, answered her.

She bit back a sob as she requested entrance and the boarded up door to her left sucked in, slid sideways with an almost silent whoosh, and disappeared from view.

She limped through, past the dark shadows of parked vehicles, toward the golden rectangle of light that beckoned her to safety like a beacon; her lighthouse on a rocky, dangerous shore. The door closed behind her and only the slightest vibration told her she was moving.

She stared at the floor, far too distraught to admire the ancient and indecipherable gold writing on the walls as she usually did. The elevator settled into its resting place with a gentle bump and the door swung open through the concealed wall; revealing her safe haven at last.

A large rat in a soft robe stood upright, with paws clasped in front of himself, to greet her.

"Welcome back, my child," Splinter said. He reached out to pull her into a hug but stopped with a sharp sniff. "Are you well?"

That gentle question broke the tenuous control she was holding over her emotions and large tears welled up in her eyes. Covering her face with both hands she practically fell into the old rat's arms and buried her head in his neck, sobbing as if her heart was breaking.

"They - they took it!" she stuttered through her tears. "He's going to be so- so angry!"

Splinter held her close and bowed his head over hers, stroking her back soothingly.

"It will be ok, my child," he murmured. "He will understand."

Taking her by the hand, he strode to the kitchen and prepared a pot of green tea while she sat at the table, head in her hands. While he waited for the leaves to steep, he turned his back to her and pressed a few buttons on his shell-cell; an urgent summons for his children to return to him.

Sliding his phone back into his robes, he collected the tea and seated himself across from her at the table. Slowly, methodically, he completed the ceremony by pouring the tea and gently pushed a glass across to her.

"Drink, my dear," he ordered, but his tone was gentle. "The tea will help. I promise."

She grasped her cup in shaking hands and raised the smooth edge to her bruised lips. The scent went straight to her head, soothing her in a way she could not define as the hot liquid passed her swollen lips and slid down a throat gone tight with tears. The warmth pooled comfortably in her stomach and eased some of the tension.

A few minutes later, the elevator rumbled and Splinter excused himself to greet his sons. She bowed her head over the table as he left and a few more tears squeezed their way out of her eyes, running silently down her cheeks. Morosely she wiped them away.

Of course, Splinter would call his family. How could he do anything else? Still, she wished she had a little more time to recover. She wasn't ready to face 'him' yet. She turned in her seat to watch as the old rat spoke in a low tone to Leonardo. His brothers leaning in to hear as well. She turned back to the tea, a blush heating her cheeks.

A moment later a large hand landed softly on her shoulder.

"Hey," a quiet voice said. "Come to the lab. Let me take a look, OK?"

She closed her eyes in relief as Donatello took her by the hand and led her like a small child across the lair to his work room, closing the door behind them. He guided her to a clear table, and dropped her hand to wrap both of his around her waist, hoisting her to sit on the top as if she weighed nothing. Hesitantly, he raised a hand and brushed a new tear off her cheek.

"What hurts?" he asked.

Again she closed her eyes.

"My head aches, I think I sprained my ankle and…" she held out her left hand.

A long cut ran from just above her wrist across the back and down her ring finger. She winced as she heard his slight gasp. When she opened her eyes again, he was inches from her face, examining her bruised lips and running a critical eye down her neck and shoulders.

He raised his hands and ran them gently over her scalp from front to back, drawing away with a quick "sorry" when she winced. Next his hands ghosted down her leg from knee to ankle, turning her foot this way and that to determine the extent of the injury.

Silently he began to gather supplies. Disinfectant, gauze, and a stretchy ace bandage. He turned and handed her a couple of painkillers and a bottle of water, before bending to wrap her ankle tight. He moistened a cotton ball with disinfectant and dabbed at the back of her hand then laid a triple thick bandage over the length of the cut and wrapped it in gauze.

When he was finished, she raised her bandaged hand, turning it back and forth in front of her eyes with a sad, closed expression.

"No way to hide this, is there?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Why would you want to?" Donnie said.

She blushed, almost scarlet.

"I lost it," she muttered.

"No," Don said with emphasis, taking her chin in his hand and tilting her head up so she had to meet his concerned brown eyes, "they took it. There's a big difference."

He set her on the floor, making sure she wasn't dizzy from the blow to the head before leading her to a seating area at the back of the room. He settled her into a worn, comfy couch and draped a throw blanket across her lap as his two other brothers entered.

Leonardo knelt in front of her, handing her another full cup of green tea, which she sipped gratefully. Michelangelo circled the sofa and leaned over the back, wrapping her gently in a hug that encompassed her neck and shoulders. Donnie sat to her left.

"So," Leo said in a quiet, calm tone, his blue-grey eyes soft as he gazed into hers. "Tell us what happened."

They listened in silence, but she could tell they were angry. Leo's hand on her knee tightened its grip almost imperceptibly, Donnie tensed, frowning, and Mikey's hug became a strangle-hold as she described the assault. But she was grateful for it all.

Glad they were there to listen, glad they stayed to reassure her rather than running out immediately, glad that they were one short of a full family grouping.

"Describe them for me again," Leo said with a serious mien. She did the best she could; giving him heights; approximate builds; races; and identifying tattoos she glimpsed briefly in the dark.

"Not Dragons then," Donnie said, shaking his head. "And not Foot from the sound of it."

"Not one of the gangs Raph is 'friendly' with either," Leo said. "They would have backed off when they realized who she was."

"It doesn't matter who they are, they're in for a major butt-kicking," Mikey said, more than a glint of fury in his eyes.

"Where did it happen?" Donnie asked, turning the conversation back to her.

"I was leaving the bar on 37th and 10th Ave, headed for the subway when they pulled me into an alley," she said, tearing up again as Leo patted her leg. "They took my handbag, guys! My wallet and ID so they know where we live!"

Her eyes went huge at this realization, fear taking over again.

"Don't worry," Donnie said. "You'll stay here tonight and we'll take care of it."

"But what about Raph?" she asked.

Michelangelo laughed and jumped over the sofa to sit between her and Donnie, forcing his brother to the other end. He grabbed her shoulder and gave her a side hug.

"I pity the guy that breaks in while Raph is there."

Leo shot him a glare as her eyes widened even further.

"Don't let him kill anybody," she whispered.

"We won't," Leo said as he and Donnie stood to leave.

She nodded gratefully, closing tired eyes and leaning her head on Mikey's shoulder. Leo and his youngest brother exchanged a glance and a nod. He would stay with her until she fell asleep. The other two headed out into the main living area of the lair.

"What did she leave out?" Leo asked Don.

"Well, her injuries are pretty consistent with what she told us," Donnie said. "But her lips are swollen and her neck is gonna bruise up pretty seriously in a day or so. I'd say at least one of them tried to take advantage of her." He shuddered a little. "But they didn't expect for her to fight back. If she hadn't gotten away, who knows where it would have gone."

"How long before she heals?"

"She's got a goose egg on her head, but no concussion. Her ankle's pretty strained, but should be better in a week or so. The hand will take a while to close up and I'm afraid she'll have a scar, but it doesn't need stitches."

"She say how she got that?"

"My guess is she wouldn't give up her ring so he took it."

Leonardo shook his head.

"Prepare yourselves," Splinter's voice called out across the length of the room. "Your brother returns with Casey Jones."

Don and Leo exchanged a glance and a nod as Michelangelo joined them.

"Dudette is out like a light, and just in time," Mikey said as the elevator door in front of them opened.

* * *

Raphael had been having a pretty good night.

Nothing like smashing a few bad guys head's together with your best pal to get the blood flowing, but he and Casey had been out for hours when they got the politely worded request from Splinter to stop by the lair on their way home, so it wasn't too much of an inconvenience to cut their evening short for a little family visit.

His father didn't ask for him often, and it was nice to hear from the old rat.

The moment he set foot in the elevator, however, his good mood went straight to hell. There was a familiar scent in the space, something warm and coppery. It could only be blood; coated with an undertone of jasmine, cucumber, and melon.

She was here. And she was injured.

His face was grim by the time the elevator settled. When the door opened, he saw the entire family gathered to meet them. His stomach constricted with fear and his heart leapt into his throat.

"What happened? How bad is it?"

The words were spat in a deep growling staccato as he stalked into the main room. His glare swept the gathered company and landed on Leo as the leader began to explain.

"We were on patrol, so we didn't see first hand. Master Splinter summoned us home when she arrived here injured. She was attacked but Donnie patched her up. She's going to be ok, Raph," he said quickly as his brother's face turned practically black with rage.

"Who. Was. It?" Each word was bitten off as Raphael tried to control the fury that flared inside him. "Dragons? The Foot?"

Donatello shook his head.

"Four persons unknown. They didn't recognize her. It looks like a random mugging. She got away by fighting them off with those street moves you taught her."

"Where is she?"

"Sleeping in the lab," Donnie replied. "They took her ID, she was afraid to go home in case they decided to ransack the place. I told her she could stay here tonight."

Raphael was striding off before Don had even finished. He eased the door to the lab open and headed directly for the seating area at the back but stopped short when he saw her laid out on the sofa. Her eyelids were swollen from crying and she clutched a throw blanket close to her chest as she huddled pitifully at one end. His hands clenched involuntarily into fists and his whole body shuddered.

"Injuries?" he demanded to Donnie who followed him in.

"Knot on the back of her head, sprained ankle and a cut on her left hand."

"That all?"

The question was loaded with intensity and his face was a battlefield of fury and dread. Don flinched, but he couldn't keep the rest from his brother.

"Her lip is split and swollen. Her neck is bruised. Someone made a pass at her, but I think that's as far as they got."

Raphael let out a sigh of relief, his expression softened and he crossed quickly to her side; scooping her up in his arms and holding her tight against his plastron.

"I'm putting her in my room."

Don stepped smoothly out of his path. "By all means. She'll feel safer there."

As Raph whisked her away, Don heard him whispering softly to her.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I shoulda shadowed you home…"

When Raphael rejoined them in the living area moments later, there was nothing soft about him. His amber eyes were like agates and his muscles bunched and clenched under his jade skin.

"What do we know about them?" he snapped.

Don was on the computer, examining a map of the area and cross referencing all the information she had given them.

"It's likely a small group acting alone. You have contacts in the gang that claims that territory. Maybe they can help us out," Donnie said.

"Who?" Raph asked, pulling out his shell-cell.

"Mira and Zoey, lieutenants both," Don replied.

Raphael was already dialing.

"Mira? It's Raph. Someone's poaching in your territory and I need to find them…"

* * *

With the whole gang on the lookout, it took little less than half an hour to locate the four. They were holed up on a rooftop not three blocks from the bar and Mira planted gang members all around them, to keep them in sight. They had orders not to engage and to melt away the moment the turtles arrived but that didn't stop them from harassing the smaller group.

"You're in for in now…"

"Talk about stupid."

"Everyone knows that girl's off limits."

"Babies. Don't even know the rules they're breakin."

"Gonna get their necks broken."

"Good thing he didn't think it was us…"

"God, don't even go there."

The taunts flew from the darkness on every side, winding the group up until they had to respond.

"Who is she?" one screamed. "Why's the bitch so important?"

Silence fell and a long drawn out growl echoed across the rooftops, bouncing off the skyscrapers and reflecting back with deadly menace.

A knife flew out of the black, pinning the ankle of one of the punks jeans to the rooftop.

The others broke and started to flee as the leader floundered and fell, tugging at his pants leg. One ran for the stairwell and screamed as something yanked him into the darkness behind the small protrusion. Another fell, cursing as something sharp pierced his bicep. Seconds later he collapsed, foam frothing from his mouth.

"It's the freaks!" the third cried, glimpsing a large form just before darkness swallowed him.

Only the leader remained; pinned in the wan light of the stairwell door, unable to move, frozen in fear. The growl came again and a deadly calm voice rose over it.

"You have something that doesn't belong to you."

"You want the lady's bag? Take it!" The punk flung it away, in the direction of the voice. "We didn't get a chance to divide it. It's all there, even the cash!"

"You took more than that…" came a voice from another direction, equally loaded with menace, "and some things you can't give back."

The man paled even more and flinched at the harsh words. "I - I shouldn'ta kissed her. I get it. I'm sorry…" he stuttered.

A huge, dark form loomed over him out of the darkness.

"Sorry ain't gonna cut it," he growled.

The punks eyes widened as his gaze traveled up and up, over the strange and alien looking form in front of him. He tried to scoot away despite his pinned garment.

"What - What do _you_ want with her anyway?"

It was a last ditch effort at bravado.

Raph leaned over the doomed man, reached behind his neck and pulled on a small golden chain. The movement revealed an object hidden just behind his plastron, close to his heart.

A golden ring dangled from it, gleaming in the light. A red glow sparked from the rubies that adorned a pair of crossed sais resting atop the crest of the Hamato clan.

The punks jaw dropped as he realized it matched the one he'd stolen off the woman's finger tonight.

"She's my wife."

It was the last thing he heard before a massive fist met the side of his head and he slumped to the ground.

* * *

She stirred in the early hours of the morning. Her body ached but the large form resting behind her warmed and comforted her. She reached up and grabbed his hand where it lay on her hip, pulling it across her front, up to her face, and rubbing her cheek lightly against it. On the way, her hand brushed something metal and her fingers explored the new chain around her neck. She hadn't been wearing a necklace when she went to sleep. At the center of the chain hung a circular object she knew well.

Her ring. He got it back.

With a happy sigh she nestled her cheek into his palm, breathing in the unique fragrance of her husband and reveling in the safety she felt in his arms.

A gentle smile crossed her face and she drifted back to sleep.


End file.
